


Keep Fishing

by wanderinghooves



Series: The Natural Progression [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, Humor, Marriage Proposal, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 03:03:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13672920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderinghooves/pseuds/wanderinghooves
Summary: “There’s a law against fraternization between officers, Havoc. Are you trying to lose your job?”Bizarrely, Havoc somehow looks even more befuddled than before.“Is this some sort of joke? That got scrapped when Grumman revised rules of conduct.”“When Grumman didwhat?”“Sir, it just happened two weeks ago. It went past your desk, for God’s sake. Where have you been?”(In which nobody told Roy Mustang that Hawkeye was fair game.)





	Keep Fishing

**Author's Note:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3k1MHJ3bFs0

Roy Mustang has decided it’s just not in the cards for him to complete paperwork.

He’d actually taken the trouble to come in early this morning, needled by Grumman to get his ass in gear and push the rest of the Ishvalan diplomacy acts past his desk. It’s not exactly like Roy needed the extra motivation, he’s got a personal investment in this too, but if it weren’t for the Fuhrer he probably wouldn’t have shown up to the office at 6:45.

His pen has barely touched the signature line of the first agricultural trade act when he’s interrupted.

Jean Havoc bursts into the room, a grin plastered on his cigarette-occupied mouth. He somehow seems even more energetic than usual, especially for the time, and he’s clutching a small stack of cards in his hand.

Havoc’s smile transforms to bafflement when he realizes Roy’s presence, and is then quickly replaced with something close to a pout.

“Colonel, what the hell are _you_ doing here?”

Roy gestures mildly to his desk.

“Paperwork.”

Havoc pinches the bridge of his nose, clearly crestfallen.

“Dammit. This was supposed to be a surprise. Guess I’ll just have to take these down to Ross and Brosh first.”

Offering no further explanation, Havoc exits the office, leaving Roy at a loss.

Choosing to ignore the incident, he manages to sign off on the agriculture act and has actually moved onto finishing most of a transportation bill when Riza arrives.

She looks somewhat astounded as she sets her own files on her desk. Roy smirks at her.

“I can do some things without your tyranny, Captain.”

She rests a hand on her hip and lets a smile tug at the corner of her mouth.

“As you were, then, General. There’s more where that came from.”

He feigns a dramatic sigh and she rolls her eyes at him, turning back to her own desk.

Breda and Fuery arrive surprisingly in tandem, both grinning like idiots. Roy sees Riza raise a questioning eyebrow at them and they stumble over each other in excitement, Fuery brandishing a scrap of paper.

“Falman’s wife had the baby!”

Roy feels his face break out into real joy, and Riza actually gasps. The paper is tossed onto his desk and he snatches it up, his subordinates crowding to look over his shoulder. 

It’s a picture, the Briggs federal stamp large and imposing in the top corner. This contrasts hilariously with the image itself, which depicts Falman and his wife cradling a thoroughly insulted newborn. Roy can’t remember the last time he saw the man so happy, and he’s gladdened. 

“That’s great. We’ll have to write him back.”

Their reverie is interrupted by the reappearance of Havoc, who appears out of breath but possibly even more excited than earlier.

“Thank God you’re all finally here!”

Any follow-up to his exclamation is cut off by Fuery, who grabs the picture back and runs to shove it in Havoc’s face. 

Havoc’s face is now lit up so bright that Roy think’s they’ll all go blind, and he ruffles Fuery’s hair happily.

“That’s awesome. But I do have my own good news, kid.”

Four pairs of quizzical eyes land on Havoc, and he brandishes his (albeit reduced) stack of cards from earlier. 

“Read it and weep, folks!”

Handing each of them a card, he situates himself expectantly against the edge of his desk.

Roy picks up the small card curiously. It’s surprisingly tasteful for something coming from Havoc; the paper is a heavy weight, and there’s little silver embellishments on the edge. 

And printed in the middle-

“YOU’RE MARRYING CATALINA?”

Roy looks up in disbelief to see Breda two inches from Havoc’s face, brandishing the card like it’s some sort of interrogation piece. Havoc buries his face in his hands, laughing in spite of himself.

“I know. It’s fucking _crazy_ , right?”

Breda claps Havoc on the back and Fuery dashes up to give him a few punches on the arm, chattering elatedly. Riza gives him her own private words of congratulations, but Roy can see her hiding an astute smile as she turns away, and he suspects that somehow Rebecca has told her prior. 

He waits for the others to move away before approaching Havoc himself. Gripping him on the arm, Roy attempts to fix him with a wise look, but it comes out as a stupid grin anyway.

“You’re a good man, Havoc. Take care of her.”

For a brief, terrifying moment, he’s afraid Havoc might actually cry, but then he just laughs and runs his hands through his hair.

“Thanks, General. Means a lot.”

Facing the others, Havoc spreads his arms.

“These are invitations. The wedding’s set for June, and you bastards better all be there.”

Breda and Fuery proceed to mob him again; Roy returns to his desk, where he opens a filing drawer and pulls out a folder. With care, he extracts the contents. Three cards now lay in his lap beside Havoc’s, all with varying levels of décor. 

The first is the simplest, white with a rusty red border. In neat, hand-stenciled print, it announces the wedding of Edward Elric and Winry Rockbell, planned for September. 

The next card is extremely ornate, made of such a thin, dark paper that Roy can’t tell the composition. It’s covered in gold leaf details, and stenciled beautifully in the center are Ling Yao and Lan Fan’s names. This one is for December.

The last one is a pretty pale green, and thin lines create the image of silver mountains and lakes superimposed behind looping cursive text. Alphonse and Mei have set their date in February.

Roy looks at these for a long time before noticing a bizarre wistfulness in his stomach. Shaking his head, he goes to stuff the cards back into the folder, when he feels a hand on his shoulder.

He glances up to see Riza, who retrieves the cards and tucks them in thoughtfully.

“You certainly have a full schedule, sir.”

He snorts.

“It’s not my fault that I get roped into everything.”

She moves to return to her desk, but he stays her with a hand.

“How long have you known Havoc and Catalina were engaged?”

She shrugs amusedly.

“Oh, a week or so? Don’t worry, I didn’t spill.”

He shakes his head at her, cramming the folder back into its drawer. However, as he straightens up, a question forms in his mind.

Frowning deeply, he rests his chin in his palm and regards Havoc.

“Havoc.”

“Yes sir.”

“How exactly are you and Catalina engaged?”

Havoc seems genuinely confused by the question, cocking his head at Roy.

“What do you mean?”

Roy squints at him.

“There’s a law against fraternization between officers, Havoc. Are you trying to lose your job?”

Bizarrely, Havoc somehow looks even more befuddled.

“Is this some sort of joke? That got scrapped when Grumman revised rules of conduct.”

“When Grumman did _what?_ ”

“Sir, it just happened two weeks ago. It went past your desk, for God’s sake. Where have you been?”

Roy leans back heavily in his chair. The anti-frat rule, gone? No, he definitely would’ve remembered that one. Havoc must be pulling some massive prank, and Roy’s preparing to chew him out for it, when he realizes a loophole.

Riza can forge his signature.

Did he somehow delegate that one to her? It’s possible. In fact, the more he ponders it, the more possible it seems. Havoc might be foolish, but he’s not an idiot.

Glancing up, his suspicions are confirmed. While Breda and Fuery are simply getting a kick out of the General’s ignorance of his own files and Havoc is beginning to join in, Riza is watching him very carefully. 

She didn’t tell him. Not a single thing.

Now that’s just rude.

Holding his tongue for a few minutes, Roy waits till the other men have resumed their work and Riza is finalizing a stack of papers.

She’s rapping them straight against the edge of her desk now and getting up to leave, but he halts her.

“Captain.”

She turns.

“General?”

Under his desk, Roy’s fingers clench his chair. He’s about to do something very entertaining or very, very stupid. Probably a little bit of both.

With his free hand, he waves the wedding card folder at her faux-lazily, having furtively retrieved it.

“How about it?”

The entire room is suddenly deathly silent except for the sound of Fuery choking on his coffee. 

Breda thumps him absently on the chest; his eyes, like everyone else’s, are fixed on Riza.

She is standing stock still, her eyes boring deep into Roy’s. He’s beginning to realize that this was an extraordinarily bad stunt to pull on a woman consistently carrying at least four firearms, and instinctively braces himself when he hears her move.

But she doesn’t go for a pistol.

Instead, she straightens herself to her full height, extending an arm in a clean salute.

Her expression is perfectly neutral when she speaks.

“Accepted, sir.”

And then she is gone, paperwork tucked professionally under her arm as she vanishes out the office door.

Suddenly, the silence bursts, and Fuery’s clapping both hands to his forehead, Havoc’s bursting out in gleeful laughter, Breda’s spluttering for words.

Roy can barely register any of this, however; he’s fairly certain his brain has dissolved out of his ears and onto the floor. 

Eventually his mouth starts working again, his voice mechanical.

“Did she just say _yes_?”

Havoc can barely compose himself between bouts of hysterics, but he manages a few words in response.

“Now you’ve gotta make _us_ some invites, and they better be damn nice, General.”


End file.
